


Of Riddles and Pancakes

by weekdaydinnermenu



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Among other transactions, He wants the 99 cent pancakes, Rights to DC, shorter story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-10
Updated: 2018-05-10
Packaged: 2019-05-04 23:39:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14604264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/weekdaydinnermenu/pseuds/weekdaydinnermenu
Summary: Tuesday, Sam and Peter went to a restaurant to eat lunch. After eating lunch, they paid the bill. But Sam and Peter did not pay the bill, so who did? In the case of a cantankerous professor and one vainglorious puzzler, Tuesday is simply 99¢ pancakes.— Jonathan Crane and Edward Nygma 'acquaintanceship' focused fic —





	Of Riddles and Pancakes

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for the feedback on the story posted before, it all means quite a bit. Here comes a little random bit, hopefully followed by a story with some chapters here in a couple weeks. 
> 
> This is from the POV of Crane kind of, so any opinions on Nygma are held by Crane. Some switching to Riddler, but overall I have attempted to write in the erratic style that is what I view as mine and with the tone of Scarecrow. 
> 
> Side notes: Edward Nygma is taken from some Alan Grant, some video game, some Batman:TAS, and various comics.  Some vintage Riddler in there as well. Just the usual obsessed with Batman and giving little care to most other schemes unless they involve him as the front and center. Batman or not, this Eddie loves attention; he needs it at a level that no other rogue does. Also, I'm using the story line of when Eddie was possessed by a demon-esque creature. This is in Batman #452 and until #454 I think. I'll admit to headcanons in this in that it seriously affected him, as did the megadose of fear toxin Jonathan Crane had to endure throughout a comic set. I would imagine this made Eddie a little more fearful and on edge in regards to what happened to him. Warnings on the comic, as it is a rather bloody and graphic one. tl;dr Eddie was used by a demon in the comics and literally almost stabbed tf out of Batman.
> 
> Also: I've always pictured carb overload and breakfast types. WHY. Spending any money on anything but books and further items to spread fear? Does that happen often? Probably not. (Also side note for a shameless headcanon: Jonathan and crêpes? I like to think perhaps he picked up the skill to impress Sherry Squires after she stated she liked them once, shameless headcanon. He just found out he's pretty good at it and likes them, so.......he's made them from that point on sometimes?

**[Gotham City]**  
  
Tuesday, 1:04 PM  
  
  
  
_People watching_.  
  
It's such a hackneyed term to him. Sugarcoating his own particular hobby would do little in his efforts to dispel any seemingly irksome traits he might posses. It had always benefited him, making it an amusement he never did seem to mind. For others it was quite obviously a way to mollify their own self-absorbed, mindless needs. After all, everything he did truly benefited his own objective needs _and_ societal needs. His eyes do not leave the pages of the well-worn book as he stirs the water absentmindedly. He can feel eyes upon him momentarily as he takes a sip, most likely two tables down. It had taken months of careful orchestration to finally even entertain the idea of starting anew with the _delightful_ owner of such a fine establishment like Arkham Asylum. Dr. Jeremiah Arkham found little favor with the Master of Fear. It took only five months _–five months and four days to be exact_ –to convince Dr. Arkham he was ready for new beginnings. Of course, the process was quite tedious at times, but ah, his books. How they had awaited his return as times before!  
  
The location for his choice of dining was a spot familiar to him by luck alone. A small building tucked away behind several others, serving only a handful of items alongside other _services_ that he was currently making use of. Patience had come to him after many fallen encounters throughout the years. He found it quite beneficial to have an array of various food stops, convenience stores, secondhand shops, and the occasional bookstore that let him be for the most part. It had taken years to master this patience, with him discovering that it was still a trait that even a god such as himself could admit needed additional attention. For what it was worth, he found it one of the few establishments worthwhile in his time dining. After all, he often found that his own method of pancake and crêpe making was far superior in his learned habit over the years.   
  
It had been suchan arduous process listening to the current ragtag group of individuals at his makeshift hideout right inside the heart of Gotham. Living within the city itself was something he had never quite acquired the taste for longer-term. It was a rare occasion that the Bat-freak had time for his much smaller plans. Odd hits here and there for gullible bosses and individuals alike gave him a steady flow of cash that was less personal in nature, but the money still spent the same. He left an uncounted number of coins on the table alongside a $1 bill.  
  
Small droplets of rain and the sounds of thunder had started moments after he stepped outside the establishment. The clouds had obliged and given the sky a cool grey color, an act appreciated by his own preference in weather. He placed his book inside the sewn-in coat pocket he had added the other evening, each moment away from the text causing more irritability than perhaps this outing was worth.   
  
Just as he was turning the corner, a familiar voice called out his first name.  _That voice_. The sheer sing-songy quality of it alone was enough to instantly turn his head. The perspicuous voice had greeted him with such clarity that a handful of individuals near a worn out street sign turned, a select few promptly turning right back around for good reason.   
  
"Jonathan!" the voice called out again, each syllable enunciated in such a way that led Crane to believe his garrulous manner was by choice sometimes.   
  
Crane soon found himself facing a man that was nearly his own in height. Donning a simple green - _of cours_ e- shirt and casual attire, the red-haired individual he had chanced upon was dressed far more casual than he had ever witnessed outside of the lovely Arkham clothing line. The same self-important grin he acquired before one of his _conundrums_ was plastered all over his face. It was only seconds after Nygma flashed him a grin did he utter any further words.  
  
"I have no face, yet I possess a tongue. I can be shined, although I am not not a flashlight?"  
  
An initial look down was an almost instinct reaction from the professor, his focus on the shoes he had seemingly picked up  _weeks_ ago. He was chagrined to discover that he had once again left the house without changing them.  
  
"I certainly do not possess them to impress anyone, Mr. Nygma," he began, moving towards the edge of the sidewalk with far less haste than his previous steps, "They have served their intended purpose."  
  
In regards to Edward Nygma, he found the puzzler to be tolerable in a sort of impish delight type of way; given the opportunity, he often reveled in his egotistical fits of _simply manic_ outbursts. Despite all those winsome traits, he was too brass and by far too boastful for what he was actually worth in the mind of Jonathan Crane.   
  
Edward looked him over and frowned for a moment. "Fiddle diddle Jonathan. A simple answer has always sufficed. Seeing as how you are a simple person in almost all regards, I can only view your mocking tone back as one of true flattery."  
  
"Is my simplicity to be mocked?" Crane straightened his scarf as he paused, an article of clothing he continued to don year round when suitable to his needs. It had been the source of many a punchline between rogues and villainy alike, but it only granted him further storage and a sense of coverage nothing else allowed. "Oh, if I remember correctly—which I quite simply always do—, it was you who insisted upon leaving an untold _—_ along with unapproved  _—_ riddles for our dearest Bat-Freak just last summer! Perhaps simple is simply never your style, my friend."   
  
_**Friend**_. Nygma was well aware that everyone was a _**friend**_ to Jonathan Crane. Anyone of an inconvenience was just as much a friend to The Scarecrow as was a tolerable test subject. His pet names and cooing words failed to hide his own embittered demeanor and clearly resentful mannerisms. It was with Jonathan Crane where riddles held little pleasure outside of mocking his own inability to answer him directly on most occasions. He somehow twisted his words, morphing them into his own topic of conversation. In his own annoying way did he answer, coming to the point in a fashion that was half-satisfactory and half disappointment. It compared so little to The Dark Knight however, leaving him to only realize this irritation when conversing with Crane. As for the verbal assault, Nygma gave it little thought. To him, any previous team-up had resulted in a mishap given the free reigns on leadership.   
  
"We could dwell on this all day, Jonathan. Now before I go, a little something for the road! " Nygma said, motioning towards the business Crane had exited. "Tuesday, Sam and Peter went to a restaurant to eat lunch. After eating lunch, they paid the bill. But Sam and Peter did not pay the bill, so who did?"  
  
Crane focused his attention on the sky, his answer curiously finding itself for want of being withheld.  
**  
**_One second....two seconds...._ **  
**

****Ah! Yes, the perfect quote!  
  
He shot a rather disgruntled Edward Nygma a high-browed glance before turning towards his intended way.   
  
"If greeting you every Tuesday will result in this interaction for a time to come, we will reach the agreement of one _riddle_ per interaction. Erasmus did put it best indeed," he began, adjusting his flat cap for the rain, “'When I have a little money, I buy books; and if I have any left, I buy food and clothes'.”   
  
The self-titled Duke of Dread was out of earshot by the time the man who started this entire conversation started off on what the professor could only assume was another tangent about his method of answering. After all, he rarely indulged others in small delights of his. For Edward Nygma, that would take far more than conundrums and weekday crossword puzzle questions. 


End file.
